The Joys of Taking Arabic
by redaly
Summary: After the breakup with Logan, Rory meets someone from her past at Yale. Will history stand between them? Rating will rise to T, not there yet.
1. Firsts

A/N: I don't own anything, especially not the characters, which are all the property of the Sherman-Palladinos. sadly!

Firsts

He would never forget the first time he saw her. He walked into that classroom king of the world, fresh from several days off to visit his grandfather, enjoying the notoriety from his excused absence and the admiration of his peers. It was good to be the king, even of such a small kingdom as Chilton. But in the next moment he was stunned, shocked even. Those eyes! Her blue eyes nearly pinned him to the wall for several seconds, until she turned away. He almost didn't notice how beautiful she was, he was so distracted by her eyes. He managed to respond to Romy's question about his grandfather, turned on the charm that made the teachers love him and the girls want him, but nearly his entire concentration was on her.

He asked Josh "Who's that?", unable to hide his interest, but realized in time his mistake—he was the king of Chilton, he didn't fall for girls, girls fell for him. He had a rep to protect, and to do that he had to think of her as just another conquest. So to the answer, "New girl", he responded with "Looks like we got ourselves a Mary!", but inside he was already planning how to meet her. Maybe he could offer to help her study? That would be a good way to get some time with her, to find out if her eyes were really as blue as they seemed, to see if she found him as intriguing as he did her. No! He was the king of Chilton, he didn't find girls intriguing! He just needed to spend time with her to get her out of his system, that was it. He jumped up when the bell rang, eager to find a way to meet this blue-eyed new girl He waited outside, heard Romy tell her to borrow someone else's notes. The fact that he had been away and didn't have notes for the past several days was immaterial to him, so he offered to study with her—offered the way the girls at Chilton liked, with a clear invitation to much more than studying.

Her response shocked him- the blush, the stammer, the "studying as a solitary activity." He couldn't even be upset that she had refused him, he was so disarmed by the way she had done it. He knew then, deep down where he couldn't even admit it to himself, that she was going to be different—that she could change him. But he didn't let that change him. He treated her just like any other potential conquest, he teased and taunted her, he got on her nerves—he gave her his attention as best he could, the only way he knew how. He realized now that she would never have responded to that, even if she hadn't had a boyfriend. But back then, back when she was the first girl he had ever really wanted, and the first girl who hadn't wanted him, he couldn't understand why she hadn't fallen all over him. Why his teasing hadn't been taken as loving. Why every time he got her attention, he also got her anger. He had to admit, she was beautiful when she was angry- he would also never forget the first time she really let loose, the day of the English test when she screamed at him and at Paris—but he wanted to see her in the grip of other passionate emotions. He wanted her to care for him, to want him, to—it was hard to even think it—to love him. The brief flashes of her sympathy and understanding that he had, before they kissed at Madeline's party and afterward when they agreed to be friends, began to show him that she needed something real, something different form the king of Chilton. He had never been that person, he had always been the cool kid, the one who knew all the moves. He tried to be real, tried to get her to like him—he found out music that she liked and got tickets, hoping that she would come with him, and that away from other people she could see the real him, could look at him the way she had looked at that boy at the dance. And he tried to protect himself, he couldn't let her refuse, it was too important, so he didn't really ask—and she didn't hesitate to refuse.

The fact that he loved her burst upon him in a blinding flash on the day his heart was first broken. Before her, no girl had mattered, he had never been emotionally involved. And he had pretended, even to himself, that she was the same, that his near obsessive interest in her was nothing more than chasing after the one-who-got-away, until he heard her say "I hate him." He had never realized he could hurt that badly before. He loved Rory Gilmore. And she hated him. It was a near physical pain, he wanted to yell, to cry, to hurt something, anything. But he couldn't do anything, he couldn't change her mind and he obviously couldn't be the kind of man she wanted. So he gave up. He gave up hoping, gave up trying, gave up caring. When Duncan and Bowman had begun to invite him out for their hijinks, he went- why not? There was no point in being a good boy, she didn't want him when he tried to be one, his parents didn't seem to care. So he went deeper and deeper, and he ended up in military school. Thinking back on it, he was almost glad—he had been too far gone in anger and hatred and self-pity to deal with seeing her, and at least away from her he had been able to deal with his emotions. The school had a shrink and mandatory counseling, and after a few months of trying to get expelled, he finally began to talk. He came to understand why he had done what he had done—and why she and his father and Paris had done what they had done. That school had been the best thing that ever happened to him, although he was sure his father would never understand why.

He had avoided Hartford after that, afraid that to see her would ruin all of his hard work, would unsettle and destabilize his precious mental stability. The shrink had disagreed, had said that he should see her at least once, should apologize, should try to end things on a positive note. But he couldn't bear the thought of her indifference any more than he bore the thought of her hatred, and he stayed away. He even chose Yale because he knew she would go to Harvard, and when he heard from Paris that she hadn't, he planned his courses around what she wouldn't be taking.

He might have known that state of affairs couldn't be maintained for a full four years.


	2. Lasts

Lasts

She would never forget the last time she saw him. He looked so—broken—walking down that hall toward his uncaring father and out of her life. He had been so different in those last few moments, like the man she had thought he was after Madeline's party. When he said "I would kiss you-but your boyfriend's watching" she—just for an instant—wished he would, wished Dean was in Stars Hollow, in Boston, in Hell, anywhere where he wouldn't be watching them. But he wasn't, and he was, and the moment passed and Tristan turned away. And he walked out of her life for the last time.

Since the (she had to admit) inevitable dissolution of her relationship with Logan, she had been thinking about Tristan a lot. She wasn't even sure why, except perhaps that they were similar in so many ways: handsome, charming, blonde, rich, entitled. The past few years had shown her both the seduction and the danger of the world they had grown up in, and despite everything, she was beginning to think that Tristan had dealt with it better than Logan. He at least had struggled against expectations, had tried to be his own person. He might not have chosen the right way to do that, but he had been young and foolish, and he had suffered for it. Logan, on the other hand, had done what was expected of him- he had rebelled enough to be seen as 'strong willed', but not enough to be punished. He didn't mind the future that had been planned for him or the person it required him to be, he minded the schedule it was on. Their relationship had been doomed, even without the yacht incident and her breakdown—the man he was becoming was very different from the man she had first met, and not in a good way. She had changed too, and as she became stronger she began to realize that he was using her as his last link to the person he had been, without actually resisting the change.

People changed so rapidly and so dramatically—just think of the shift from Tristan the charmer to Tristan the rebel. She knew it was probably conceited of her, but she couldn't help wondering if what she had said when Dean came to Chilton had had any influence on that change. She hadn't ever hated him, probably wasn't even able to hate anyone. But she had needed something to tell Dean, and that had come out. She wished it hadn't, especially if it had hurt him in any way. She couldn't help wondering what he was doing now. She thought Paris had probably stayed in touch with him, but she had never asked where he was or what he was doing. She hadn't really thought about him much until recently. But now she kept wondering who he had become. Had military school forced him into the mold his parents planned for him? Had he become like Logan, a puppet for his parents? Had he forgotten her entirely? Why was she thinking so much about Tristan Dugrey? His name had even come up in her weekly therapy session, and the shrink wanted to revisit him next time.

But there was little point in worrying about it now, she would probably never see him again. And now she had to worry about her next class. Coming back in mid-year and registering late had left her with few choices of what to take, so she was fulfilling her general education requirements with some unusual choices: in addition to the three journalism and poly-sci classes she had been able to get into, she was taking beginning Arabic. She hadn't taken a language course in years, and was a little nervous about starting with Arabic, but it had fit into her schedule and would fulfill her language requirement. She had enjoyed the main class, going over simple words and sentences, but now, heading towards the section, she was a little nervous about having to speak. If she could only find it! Just in time, she saw the door and dashed through it, not even looking at the front of the class while she quickly found a seat, dropped her bag, and pulled out a notebook. When she did look up, all she could see was the back of the TA's head as he wrote on the board. None of the TAs, advanced students in Arabic, had been in class, so she was really hoping that this section would turn out to have the good one she had heard about. Last semester had been his first TA gig, and everyone who had him had raved about his skills, his accent, and (incidentally to Rory) his looks.

As he wrote the course info on the board, Rory began to copy it into her notebook, rapidly writing the time, location, office hours, and then she trailed off as she read the name of the TA—Tristan Dugrey.


	3. Pie

A/N: yep, i still own nothing. it's all the property of the Palladinos

Pie

He turned to face the class after he finished writing on the board, and began to scan to see how many students there were. He hadn't gotten his class list before arriving, so he was just going to have to take attendance and hope that the lists matched. Before he had even begun, his eyes were drawn irresistibly to the seat by the door, the seat that had been empty when he turned to begin writing. And once again, all he could see was those blue eyes.

How could Rory Gilmore be in his class! In his own section! How could he possibly concentrate while those eyes were looking at him (looking at him full of shock right now), while she was talking and laughing and THERE! He blinked, and blinked again, hoping that perhaps she just looked like his Rory, but she failed entirely to disappear. And then she smiled, a huge happy smile that he had never expected to see from her, and began to say something, and he had to cut her off because he knew she would say something horrible.

"The main element of this section is speaking, so we will mostly be doing that. Once I have taken attendance, I would like you to pair off and try to use the basic sentences you learned in class. I will walk around and listen, so I can get an idea of how where you're having problems."

He deliberately didn't look at Rory as he spoke, although he could see out of the corner of his eye that she looked confused and perhaps even slightly hurt by his avoidance. He took attendance, and tried to settle into a routine, letting the students pair themselves up and listening to them. He began on the side of the room away from Rory, and tried to give all of his attention to the pairs he was listening to, but his attention kept straying to her. Why was she taking Arabic? She was in journalism, he had been reading her pieces in the Daily News, and he knew she had taken German and French before, so there was no reason for her to be here. He wasn't sure he could deal with her being here. But he had to, he had a responsibility, so he moved through the class and ended with her pair. They were going through the dialog they had learned in class reasonably well, but Rory had mispronounced a word, and he couldn't hide his grin when he heard it. She was looking at him when she said it, and he knew she had seen his grin, but she didn't even pause. He managed to get through the rest of the class without making eye contact.

At the end of class, once he had dismissed the section, he concentrated on wiping the board and gathering his things, keeping his eyes down in hopes that she would go away. How was he supposed to deal with this? He wasn't ready for Rory Gilmore, he had no plan for how to keep from getting hurt again. But eventually he had to acknowledge the shoes standing patiently in front of his desk, so he looked up at her.

"What was so funny? During the dialog?" she asked innocently, smiling hopefully at him. He laughed shortly, both at the memory and at the idea that Rory Gilmore was trying to get him to talk to her, after all the time he spent doing the reverse.

"You said…you said that you were—a pie."

She laughed at that, so infectiously that he joined her, and they settled into a shared grin.


	4. Coffee

A/N: As always, I own nothing! It is all the Palladino's, darn them!

"Hi Tristan," she finally said, relieved that their laughter had broken the tension "it's so good to see you. It's been a long time. I'm not trying to win points with the TA or anything, but would you maybe like to grab a cup of coffee and catch up?"

"I…" _Why is he hesitating? Why does it seem like he's avoiding me?_ "Sure. Coffee. Sounds…great." He half smiled, but his eyes were worried.

They walked to one of the nearby cafes, both deep in their own thoughts, neither feeling the need to make conversation. They placed their orders without speaking to each other, and sat down at a small table. Tristan stared into his coffee while Rory took a sip of her drink, trying to wrap her mind around the situation. Tristan was here. At Yale. And he had been for a while, which meant he had probably read her articles, probably knew she was here, but he hadn't looked her up. Had possibly even told Paris not to tell her he was here. What did it mean?

"So," she broke the silence, "how are you?" There were a million things to say, but he was so uncomfortable, it was the only option.

"Fine." He laughed sourly, his eyes flicking up to look at her and then returning to his coffee. "Fine, I'm- well." He didn't seem inclined to say anything else, and Rory was finally starting to get angry.

"Well you don't seem fine. The Tristan I remember could make eye contact when he was talking to people—could in fact talk to people, not just grunt monosyllables. Or are you just mad at me? I don't think I did anything to make you hate me, but that's the vibe I'm getting here, and let me tell you, it's going to be an awkward class if I have to contest every grade you give me!"

"I…I'm not the one who hates someone here." He responded after a moment, looking at her sadly.

"What!"

"You—I heard you tell your boyfriend that day—you hated me." He laughed sadly. "I guess I can't blame you, I was a jerk, but—it really upset me. The girl I liked hated me."

"Oh Tristan!" she whispered. "I never hated you. You got on my nerves yes, but you challenged me. I was too young to realize how much I enjoyed our sparring matches, I thought relationships should be perfect, with no disagreements and no debates." She looked away for a moment, and then looked him in the eyes and leaned forward to make sure he heard her. "Dean gave me that, and I thought I wanted it. But he was threatened by the fact that you could give me things he couldn't, things he could see I needed even before I did, and I told him something he could understand. I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry." She watched his expression go through shock to understanding and then happiness, and smiled hopefully at him. "Do you think we could maybe start over?"

"Yeah!" he exhaled sharply in relief as the tension went out of his body, and began to grin. "So, how have you been—Mary?" he smirked, and this was the Tristan she remembered, charming and teasing.

"I had forgotten that! My first nickname. You really shouldn't be calling me Mary anymore though." She looked troubled for a moment, and then shook her head and smiled. "I've been well enough! It's been a busy few years."

_He shouldn't call her Mary anymore? He knew he shouldn't be startled, it had been years after all, but he had somehow thought that she would still be exactly the same, waiting for him. She still had that air of innocence around her, but now that she mentioned it she did move differently- like someone who knew about their own body and what they liked to do with it. It only made her more attractive to him. He couldn't let himself fall for Rory again._ "I read your things in the paper. You're good—but then you know that!" he grinned. "I was surprised to find you here. I thought Harvard was the goal, and the whole country knows that you got in and Paris didn't. It was a fabulous broadcast, by the way!"

"Oh god- you watched that? That was possibly one of the most embarrassing experiences in my entire life! And mom taped it and kept putting it in the VCR 'accidentally' for months afterward, so I saw it over and over and over…" She rolled her eyes as he laughed at the image. "Harvard turned out not to be the place for me—it didn't have everything I wanted and it was _much_ too far away from home."

"Wow. It's still so hard to imagine people who actually _want_ to go home! But it's…nice. Old fashioned." He grinned at her, elated that they were having a normal conversation. That shrink had been right, he should have done this years ago.

Remembering what Paris had said about his family, she let that slide. "And what about you? I thought you were destined for Princeton. My life is obviously a matter of public record, but you've been living under the radar- spill!"

"Well, when I graduated from military school, I realized that my parents had to pay for college, no matter where I went. I was a Dugrey, and as such I had to go to college. I had been accepted to some great schools, so for them to refuse to pay just because I didn't go to Princeton would cause too much comment." He smiled and shook his head. "It took me a while, but I finally learned how to manipulate the system. I actually sat down and made a pro/con list, and Yale won out—the only real con was being so close to Hartford! They do show their displeasure by paying only my bare expenses, so I have to TA or find jobs for spending money, but I would rather do that than let them tell me what to do."

She looked troubled again, and asked hesitantly, "How was it? Military school I mean. I was really worried when you left that it would be all beatings and 'you can't handle the truth' and gruel for breakfast lunch and dinner, but I didn't know who to ask to make sure you were all right."

_She actually thought about me when I left!_ Tristan was elated. "It was actually a pretty decent place. They made me go to therapy, plus the normal military school get-up-at-five-and-go-running, call-everyone-sir thing. I'm a lot less messed up than I was, although with my family, it's a constant struggle!" Rory looked relieved. "It's nice to know someone worried when I left. I didn't even hear from Paris. Which is hardly surprising given the timing of my departure, I guess."

"That's right—oh, I will never forgive you for that! You're just lucky she managed to 'die' just before the kiss, or I might have hunted you down." Rory wrinkled her nose, laughing. "She made a much less convincing Romeo than you did. Although I've always wondered why she just _happened_ to have a period wig with her…" She shook her head and giggled. "That way lies madness!"

"I would have loved to have seen it!" Tristan commented. _Should he? Yes, he would say it_ "I would have loved even more to—" just then Rory's cell phone went off.

"Oh crap! I'm going to be late!" She jumped up. "Paris has gone crazy with power being editor, I need to keep the peace—and get to the staff meeting! I've got to run, but we should do this again. I'll see you in class anyway, teach." She grinned and dashed out of the café before Tristan could say more than "Yeah, of course, sometime soon—"

He stared after her retreating figure. Rory Gilmore, in his class. And she didn't hate him. This could be fun.


	5. Junk Food

A/N: Nope, I don't own anything, it all belongs to those Palladino's!

Thanking heaven that the first week of classes was a short one, Rory settled onto her bed to get a couple of solid hours of study in before leaving for Stars Hollow. She already had a ton of work to get done. The phone rang while she was about to change subjects. "Hello?" she asked, without checking the number.

"You need to get jujubes, red vines, twinkies, combos, cheetos, those pizza bites, and something chewy—starburst maybe?"

"Mom?"

"Focus here Rory! I'm working late, and if we're going to have a good long movie night, you need to stock up before you get here. I got the movies earlier, but I ran out of time to go to Doose's."

"What did you get?" Rory balanced the phone between her shoulder and her ear, trying to reach her Arabic book on the floor and only half paying attention.

"You're gonna love this! I got The Wizard of Oz, A Star Is Born, and Zeigfeld Girl." The sound of Michel yelling in the background grew louder as Lorelai continued, "and if there's time, we could also watch Me and My Shadows, because I think we still have the tape."

"A Judy Garland Marathon—excellent! We haven't done one of those in ages. What is Michel yelling about?" Rory opened the Arabic textbook on her lap, finding the lesson from the last class. But Lorelai's response made her sit up straight and forget all about the book.

"Oh, it's nothing. Well, nothing major. Sookie just had one of her little incidents, and his shoes were the casualties. His-_new_-shoes."

"Oh mom! Not the hand-made custom Italian shoes he ordered for Christmas, that only just arrived? He'll never forgive her! He must be devastated!"

"_He'll_ be devastated? _I'm_ devastated! Those shoes were fabulous! They were going to provide _weeks_ of mocking potential. And now it's gone. Gone! In an instant!"

"Mom! Think about Michele! He's been bragging about those shoes for months. What are you going to do?"

"Oh, I'll get him another pair. He's just been yelling so entertainingly, I couldn't bear to stop him. He actually seems to have lost the ability to speak English, he's so mad! I just _love_ it when he yells in French."

"Well, it _is_ the language of romance. Maybe you have a secret thing for Michele? I know, this whole thing with Luke is a smokescreen so we won't realize that you and Michele have been having a passionate affair for years!" Rory relaxed back onto her pillow and crossed her legs, putting the book aside.

"Bleargh! A thing with Michele—oh mini-me, how evil you have become. I have taught you well! Although you're right about French, maybe I can get Luke to take a class… Hey- how was your Arabic class?"

"I almost forgot- you'll never guess who my TA is!"

"Don't tell me- is it a Hussein? Ooh, ooh—or is it that dishy guy who was translating during one of those terrorist trials, I forget which one. Or—you're going to have to give me a hint here."

"It's Tristan Dugrey!"

"Trist—oh! Bible Boy! And yet you sound happy. Why do you sound happy, oh my daughter? I thought he made you miserable."

"He wasn't that bad." Rory shifted uncomfortably.

"That's not what you said! You said, and I believe I quote, that he 'ruined everything with Paris', that you never wanted to see him again, that he made you sick, and that he should 'rot in the fire swamp before being put on a ship that was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts', and I believe there was some mention of him being put into 'the Machine'. You really liked the Princess Bride that year, didn't you?"

"Um. Perhaps I overreacted. He was just—difficult. But _anyway_, he's my Arabic TA, and we went out for coffee after class. We didn't talk long, I had to run to a staff meeting—and remind me to tell you about THAT experience later—but it was nice. We laughed a little, and we kind of both apologized for things we had done to each other. I think we're going to be friends."

"I'm sorry, did I hear this correctly? You apologized to _each__other_? What would my darling daughter have to apologize to the delinquent who got kicked out of Chilton for? _Him_ I can understand."

"Well, he might have overheard me when I told Dean that I—kind of—hated him. Which I didn't, but I didn't know how else to explain to Dean about us."

"There was an us? Why am I finding out about this now! I know, because you didn't want to give your mommy a heart attack at the time, so you saved it up for later. How thoughtful of you!"

"Yes, that's exactly it." Rory said sarcastically. "I was going to save it until your arteries were more clogged, but now I have been forced to reveal it too early, and my evil plan is foiled. Curse you!"

"You'll have to tell mommy all about the new and improved Tristan Dugrey at the movie night. I have to go, it looks like Michele might be calming down enough for me to offer to replace 50 of the value of his shoes—that should be good for more French yelling!"

"Have fun tormenting Michele. I'll see you later."

"Oh, and—you took your TA out for coffee? Dirty! I bet you get all A's in that class!"

"Bye, mom!" Rory groaned.

"Don't forget the junk food!"


	6. Hours

A/N: as always, the Palladinos own everything and I won nothing. except the characters I make up, but really, that's not much is it?

6.Hours.

As he returned to his room at the end of a long day, Tristan still couldn't believe that just a few hours ago he had seen Rory Gilmore. Had spoken with, and even laughed with, Rory Gilmore. Was it real? He had been so busy for the rest of the day that the interlude felt unreal, almost out of time. But it wasn't, he had actually come to terms with Rory, was on the way to becoming friends with her. He smiled to himself, as he turned the key and walked into the apartment he shared. Friends with Rory Gilmore- this was going to be a good semester!

"Hey DuGrey," his roommate Alex called, "you up for the 'welcome back to hell' parties tonight? Lots of lovely ladies…" Alex had been Tristan's roommate since freshman year, but the two were very different. Tristan had to laugh at how their differences manifested- Alex was a real ladies man, with girls hanging all over him (both because of his dark good looks and his almost unbelievable charm), but he never kept any of them around for more than a week or two. Even so, they rarely got mad and certainly didn't speak ill of him, because he still seemed to have an unlimited supply. Tristan, on the other hand, ignored most of the girls who threw themselves at him, dating only the few who showed real intellect—and invariably getting dumped a few months later amid accusations that he was 'emotionally unavailable!' and 'not ready for real intimacy!'. How the mighty King of Chilton had fallen!

" 'Welcome back to hell'?" Tristan didn't go out that much any more. Having to work for his spending money meant he picked and chose, going only to things that promised to be interesting—and before today, that promised no Rory. But that was no longer a concern, and parties around campus at the start of the quarter were free anyway. "Sure, why not." Maybe he would even run into Rory, get another chance to talk to her. "Where to?"

Alex blinked, a little surprised that it had been so easy, and then grinned. "My man! I knew you'd come out of your shell eventually! So, are we still avoiding the circle on our outings? Because there is what promises to be a truly amazing party scheduled by some guys I know, but your Mary might be there… Did I mention truly amazing?"

"Sure! Let's do it!" Tristan said, slightly startled at how much Rory had influenced his life even without actually being part of it. "I'm not avoiding anyone any more—and I'll tell you about it later if you want, but for now, let's celebrate!"

"Great! Let me just call Finn and get the details!" Alex wandered into his room, clearly thrilled that Tristan was relaxed enough to have a real night out. Tristan hadn't asked for a specific roommate when the time came, but his father had been horrified at the thought of a DuGrey living with just anyone, and had arranged for him to live with Alex—without asking him. Tristan had been horrified when he found out, assuming that any society guy his father would have chosen would be impossible to live with and an ass to boot. But Alex had turned out to be all right- while his family was rich, they were also the kind of people who thought their kids should grow up normal. They had helped with his homework, gone to his soccer games, given him chores to earn spending money, and been involved in his life in a way Tristan would have given anything for. They were good friends by now, and Alex knew almost all of Tristan's secrets- except for Rory's identity. Tristan had just said that there was someone he needed to avoid in the society circle, Mary, and Alex had helped him stay out of it.

But, other than the fact that it annoyed his father, there was no reason to stay out anymore—and he was ready for a good party! He could drink a little, dance a little, maybe even flirt with some girls. She didn't hate him!

"OK man, we're good to go! It's a theme party, you know the drill. George Lucas, any character from his movies. Let's run and get costumes- we've got three hours or so!" Alex grabbed his coat, obviously already planning a costume in his head. "and on the way, you can tell me what happened today. You look—happier—than I've ever seen you. You win the lottery and escape your father's tyranny forever?"

"Nah." Tristan sighed as he put his coat back on. "Wouldn't that be great! But this might be even better. I ran into Mary today."

"Mary! I though she was mythological! Or invisible, since I've never met a Mary, and I DO hang out in the circle. What happened to change her from one to be feared to one who makes you smile like that? You didn't…?" he winked knowingly.

"NO! God, you are such a jerk sometimes, you know that!" Tristan said half jokingly and half serious. No matter that she wasn't a Mary anymore, she was still _his_ Mary and no one was going to talk about her like that. "we just…talked. It was … good. We cleared some stuff up."

"Wow. Cryptic much? Are you going to actually tell me what went on with you guys, or am I going to have to learn it from the mysterious Mary when I finally meet her?" Alex prodded. He had known about Mary almost from the first day he met Tristan, had known that she was the lost love with whom things had ended badly, and had been hoping that she would eventually turn up. She was such a raw wound to his roommate (one of many unfortunately), and Alex was sure that Mary was the reason Tristan kept getting dumped—he was 'emotionally unavailable' because he was pining after her instead of thinking about his girlfriends. But with no clues to go on other than a first name, eye color (blue, apparently), and an affiliation with Hartford society, he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

"Whatever. Like you tell me all about your conversations with girls." Tristan joked. "No wait, I don't want to hear about those. 'Oh Alex,'" he continued in a falsetto, batting his eyelashes, " 'you're so very handsome. And rich. Can you ever love me?' 'Why no,'" he began laughing as Alex gave him a dirty look. He continued speaking through his laughter in a deeper voice, as 'Alex', "'I'm too handsome and rich to love one woman. But I can make you feel wonderful until I am forced to share the wealth of my handsomeness among the population.' Yeah, I think I can give that a miss, thanks." He grinned as Alex took a swat at him.

"Seriously man! You hide from this girl for two and a half years, run into her once, and all is forgotten? I don't know what went down between you all to begin with, but that must have been a hell of a conversation!"

Tristan looked at him for a moment. "You understand this is just between us, right?" he said quietly. "I—just—it's very personal."

"Of course, man. Have I ever told your secrets? Especially to the society set—I could have found out from them about Mary way before this if I wanted to, but I knew you wouldn't like it." Tristan shook his head. He should have known Alex would consider that, he was always trying to fix things. For a rich kid, he spent an awful lot of time making sure his friends were happy—which was probably why the girls kept coming back.

"You wouldn't have found her." he said. "Her name's not Mary."

"Um. What? You've been using a _code name_ for her! Man, who is she, Chelsea Clinton or some sultan's daughter or something?" Alex began to laugh. "Well, that makes sense- you got sent to military school because it was that or the secret service kicking your ass! I like it."

"No you reject! Mary was her nickname. _My_ nickname for her, really. She never liked it much, but it was the only thing that we had that was just the two of us." Tristan looked momentarily sad. "I was madly in love with her, but I've told you what I was like in high school. She was smart. Very smart, and so sweet and even innocent…but she had a temper." Tristan smiled, remember the flash of her eyes when she had yelled at him.

"Ah. So she hated your guts?" Alex said sympathetically. It was still difficult for him to imagine the Tristan he knew, honest, studious, kind, as a world class jerk.

"Hate is such a strong word…but yeah. I drove her crazy, teasing her, taunting her, picking fights with her boyfriend—and then they broke up. I was so psyched, I could finally get her. So I got tickets to see a group she liked, and I told her we were going."

"You—told her? Oh, you were dumb!" Alex shook his head. "I mean, I've never met the girl, but I can't imagine that going over well. Asking is really the way to go about these things, you know."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Yeah. 'Well' is the opposite of how it went over. She flat out refused to even consider going with me. We were arguing about it when the boyfriend came to Chilton to get her back…and she told him she hated me. Shouted it, actually, in the courtyard. Not my finest day." He shook his head and looked down, concentrating on his feet. "That's when the real downward spiral began, when I heard that. She was the last person I spoke to from Chilton. We were in a play for class- Romeo and Juliet. I was Romeo…" He looked up at Alex.

"And she was Juliet." Alex completed the thought. "and you had to kiss, and the boyfriend got mad, and you wanted her to want you or to defend you but she didn't…"

"So I broke into Bowman's dad's safe."

"Not your best decision ever."

"It's worked out well enough in the end…but I just couldn't stand the thought of-- of running into her and seeing her hate me. Or seeing her not remember me. I've never been sure which would be worse. So I made sure to keep away." Tristan shook his head.

"But you ran into her today. And it seems to have gone well?"

"Well. It was better than I could have dreamed, actually. She was really happy to see me. She said she'd worried about me when I left, which is more than I deserved, and … that she never hated me." Tristan laughed. "All that time I drove myself crazy over a thing she said to calm someone else down, that she didn't mean anyone to hear—that she didn't mean. It was such a relief. If she never hated me, maybe I wasn't that bad. Maybe I deserved someone like her." He smiled brilliantly. "we're going to be friends."

" 'Friends'? That's all you want? This girl has been on your mind for six years now! Aren't you going to ask her out?" Alex was shocked. While Tristan didn't date often, when he had decided he wanted a girl, he had gone after her right away. He had never tried to 'be friends' first.

"I don't know that she's willing to forget the old me quite that quickly," Tristan said ruefully. "I was fairly difficult for her. Besides—oh crap." Tristan looked shocked for a moment, and then laughed. "—I can't. Besides the fact that I'm pretty sure I was never her type, I am absolutely, positively forbidden from asking her out for the next fifteen weeks." He laughed at Alex's shock, and at the situation. "Because the reason I ran into her? Is that she's taking Arabic."

"Crap! And you can't date one of your students… damn, man! And it would be so much fun to finally get to play the 'do you _really_ want a good grade?' game with someone for real, too!"

"Alex!" Tristan yelled, and then was struck dumb by the vivid mental pictures of himself and Rory playing sex games. '_I'd do **anything** to get an A on this test Tristan_.' '_Anything?' 'Anything you want.'_ "uhh…. Shut up."

Alex laughed and turned to him. "Costume shop, here we are. Got any ideas yet?"

"I dunno… I guess Han Solo. Everyone likes Han Solo. Or, no—Indiana Jones. A man with a whip is always sexy." Tristan grinned.

"Mary won't know what hit her. That is- is she going to be there?"

Tristan looked uncertain. Rory had always had those Friday night dinner things. But he didn't know her schedule anymore, those might have been a high school thing. "I don't know. Maybe. We'll see." And if not, he would count the hours until he saw her again.

"Are you ever going to tell me her name?" Alex prodded.

"Maybe in a couple of hours."


	7. Days

A/N: Those lucky, lucky Palladinos own everything and I own nothing, because I lost the auction, sigh.

Days.

It was several more days until she would see him again, but on the drive home, Rory kept thinking about Tristan. He _had_ heard her, he _had_ thought she hated him. She _had_ probably contributed to his ending up in military school. And yet he wasn't angry at her, he didn't resent her for ruining his life. They were going to be friends. She smiled. Friends with Tristan. They had tried and failed once, but this time—this time she was sure it would work.

She pulled the car into the driveway and got out the bags of junk food. By staying away this summer she and Lorelai had missed too much, and she knew it was all her fault, so she was coming home every chance she got. Not that a few movie nights could possibly make up for the time they had lost, but she wanted to do her best.

"Mom! I'm home! And I brought Red Vines!" she yelled, trying to balance the bags as she pulled the door closed behind her. "Mom!"

"Rory! Rory, my love, my angel, my favorite daughter!" the cry drifted out of the kitchen,

"I'm your only daughter," Rory yelled back, smiling, as she headed into the kitchen. "What do you want?"

"Want? Why do you assume I want anything? I am hurt! I am insulted! I am—"

"You are full of it!" Rory backed into the kitchen and turned to put the bags on the table, where Lorelai was sitting with a cup of coffee. "You are—you are wearing my favorite sweater! And it has a big stain on it! Mom!" Rory dumped the bags on the table and put her hands on her hips.

"What!"

"Favorite sweater!"

"But—it wasn't my fault! I was wearing it because I needed to look responsible for the meeting I had this afternoon, and you know you're the one with the responsible clothing, so I borrowed it—"

"I don't think it's called borrowing if you just take it without asking!"

"—I borrowed it and then Sookie ruined Michele's shoes and when I got off the phone he was chasing her around the dining room and when I tried to head him off he accidentally ran into one of the waiters and knocked him down and his tray went flip! Up into the air! And then it landed on me and on the sweater. But I had already looked responsible so it all worked out ok, right?"

"OK! O! K? you ruined my favorite sweater! Mom!"

"But I can make it up to you!"

"I don't see how?"

"Well, I could show you the pictures of Michele in his ruined shoes wearing his ruined suit?"

"Not sufficient."

"I could—_not_ show you the picture of Luke in _his_ 'suit' that we took last night—"

"Mom!"

"Ok, fine, I could… show you the check from your father that just arrived, thus freeing us from the tyranny of Friday night dinners in perpetuity!" Lorelai grinned and snapped the check between her hands.

"Mom!" Rory jumped around the table and hugged her. "Dad came through. I knew he would"

"Ah-ha! I knew the sweater wasn't that important to you!" Lorelai grinned as Rory hugged her and then straightened. "So, you got all the junk? We've got a lot of movies to get through tonight!"

"Ready."

The two of them arranged the living room for maximum movie night convenience, cooked the tater tots and the fries, and putting everything else in bowls. They settled in front of the TV, and Lorelai picked up the remote. She turned on the TV, pressed play, and then pressed pause and turned to Rory.

"You are sneaky! Did you really think we could go directly to the movie watching without any discussion?"

"Discussion?" Rory asked, confused.

"Um, yes!" Lorelai grimaced. "I believe a former nemesis has made a reappearance? And you mother is owed a long story? About the 'us'?"

"Oh. Yeah. Right. I told you, we talked, we apologized, and everything is good now."

"Ok, Rory, seriously! That is not a story! That is like, a 'st'. Maybe even just an 's-'. I want details, I want emotions, I want expressions, I want the full Monty—no forget I said that, that would be too disturbing. I want the non-director's-cut-of-Alexander length feature film. Tristan? Talk!"

"Ok, ok, geez! I walked into class and there he was. I was a little shocked, but after class I asked if he wanted to get coffee and catch up, so we did."

"Wait, you asked him? You really do want a good grade in that class!" Lorelai winked.

"Mom! We just talked. I said I never hated him, and he said he was sorry for being a jerk, and that military school wasn't that bad, and… it was nice." Rory shrugged. "Do you want a re-enactment or something?"

"While the offer is tempting… I'm going to have to refuse. Perhaps a rain check?" Lorelai made a face. "So, was it weird?"

"I don't know that I'd say weird. I think—I think I really hurt him back at Chilton. All that time I thought he was just trying to make a conquest, and I think he really liked me." Rory looked pensive. "I hate thinking that something I said, especially something I didn't even mean, could have that effect. And I'm kind of afraid- he started acting up that summer. What if it was my fault?"

"Oh, honey! Even if he was really upset by it, what happened to Tristan is NOT your fault." Lorelai hugged Rory quickly. "He was messed up before you got there, as demonstrated by the way he treated you. Growing up how he did, he barely had a chance. And you had no way of knowing! I remember you talking about this kid, it sounded like he was trying to make you miserable. And sure, looking back it's easy to see he was doing a second-grade-pulling-pigtails thing, but at the time, it felt like garden variety meanness."

"I guess…"

"Completely. You didn't do anything you did out of meanness—you didn't think he would hear, and you didn't intend for him to know. You can't go feeling guilty. Do you think you'll be ok in class together?"

Rory sighed. "Yeah, I think so. He's supposed to be an incredible TA—he's really good at Arabic, it's why they let him TA as a junior—so I should learn a lot. But I feel a little awkward. I mean, now that I know this, about how he felt, isn't it weird? To know my TA used to want me?"

"Well, it's not the normal situation, I give you that. But do you think it will really be a problem?"

"I guess not."

"So, " Lorelai grinned, "is he still as hot as he used to be? I remember Paris talking about him like he was better than Brad Pitt and George Clooney combined!"

Rory grinned. "Well… yeah. He's gorgeous. He always was, and now that he's not a big jerk, it's a lot more obvious. Military school was good for him, I think- it's almost like he's forgotten how good looking he is."

"Why Rory!" Lorelai leaned forward. "It almost sounds like you were checking him out!"

Rory crossed her arms and leaned back. "What of it? I'm single, he's single, I can look if I want to!"

"But he's your TA! If you went out you could use your body to make him give you better grades! Dirty! And kinky, come to think of it. Eeewww, don't you go being kinky, now, it makes Mommy feel sick."

"Mom!" Rory was shocked. But at the same time, the idea of getting that close to Tristan was kind of intriguing. _'You know I deserve an A on this paper.' 'I really don't think you do my dear.' 'I'll bet I can convince you…' 'WHAT are you doing with your hands!' 'I'm just showing you how **appreciative**__I am of all your **hard** work… it is **very** hard isn't it.'_

"Hello? Earth to Rory? I'm sure whatever you're thinking about, Mommy doesn't want to know. Are you ready for the movie?"

"Yeah. Ready for the movie. Good." Only a couple of days until she saw Tristan again.


	8. Weeks

A/N: Everything here is pretty much the property of the Palladinos, and i own nothing other than my own original characters.

Weeks

Tristan entered the party like a returning king. The shop had had nothing for Han Solo, so he was outfitted as Indiana Jones, complete with bullwhip, leather jacket and a hat, that, if he did say so himself, was rather dashing. With no real warning, he hadn't let his five-o'clock shadow grow, but he thought he looked fairly Indy-like. He really hoped Rory would be there to see him. Not that she was the kind to notice superficial things like that, and not that she would ever consider dating someone like him, but he hoped she might just notice that he wasn't totally repellent.

As he came through the door, Tristan was conscious of the stares. The kids in the circle knew who he was, even if he didn't come out to their events. His very unwillingness to mingle had made him mysterious and thus attractive to them. But he wasn't overly interested in that. He followed Alex, dressed as a young Obi Wan, over to the bar, got a drink, and leaned against it as he looked the room over. It looked like a pretty typical gathering for the social circle. Lots of carefully, expensively groomed kids in elaborate costumes, drinking expensive drinks, trying to impress each other with their style and drink their way into each others' beds. It took him back to his days at Chilton: he might not know the people here, but he knew their types. He turned to ask Alex something, only to find that a pretty blonde dressed as Leia (in her notorious bikini) had already reached him.

"Hey sexy," she crooned, sliding her arm along his shoulder, "soo glad you could make it."

"Hi Steph. How could I miss the chance to see you like this?" Alex smiled down at her, and let his hand rest gently on her bare waist. "You look great!"

"So do you. I've always liked an aura of authority…" she purred. This was obviously Alex's girl of the week. Tristan began to move away and leave them alone, but Alex interrupted.

"Have you met Tristan?"

"Tristan? The mysterious Tristan DuGrey? Nice to meet you." She smiled and looked him up and down. "And well worth the wait. Hopefully we'll be seeing more of you."

"I'm sure you will," Tristan responded seductively, falling back into his old society habits. He had no interest in seeing her, but there was no point in being openly rude. He rethought his plan for the evening. Maybe flirting a little was not an option in this crowd—if the women were this predatory he was unlikely to find anyone who interested him. Unless Rory were here.

"Alex! Hello mate!" A tall Australian ambled over to them, dressed as Luke Skywalker at the end of the final movie. "So glad you could make it. Have I met you?" He looked quizzically at Tristan.

"Hey Finn," laughed Alex. "This is my roommate Tristan. DuGrey."

"Oh, of course! Have a drink!"

"I've got one, thanks. Great party." replied Tristan, amused at the obvious drunkenness of the Australian.

"Oh, that's nearly gone- you must have another, mate!" declared Finn. "And do you know any redheads—ones that I haven't met yet? I don't know who you've been hanging out with while you were avoiding us, but some of them must have red hair!" he grinned. "I like redheads!"

"We all know your love for redheads, Finn," said the blonde Han Solo who had just approached the group. "But I'm shocked you've sunk to asking strangers for introductions. Logan Huntzberger, nice to meet you." He offered his hand to Tristan.

"He's not really a stranger Logan," said Finn, "he's a DuGrey. He's one of us." Tristan looked a little uncomfortable at this description, but let it slide. Technically he was one of them, regardless of how he felt about the situation.

"Ah, the mysterious DuGrey!" Logan gave Tristan a measuring look, one which Tristan returned. This smug man was who he could have been, if it hadn't been for Rory. He felt a sudden shock of gratitude to her. It had hurt so much to hear her say she hated him, but it had changed his life in so many good ways. "Glad you decided to join us." Logan continued smugly. "I never was clear on why you stayed away, but it's nice that you've cleared it up."

"I make it a practice never to explain these things," Tristan smugged back at him. "but I always enjoy a good party."

Alex and Steph slipped off to dance, leaving Tristan alone with Finn and Logan. Finn drooped onto the bar and ordered another drink while Tristan and Logan considered each other. Recognizing a formidable opponent in Tristan, Logan decided against playing condescension anymore, and relaxed slightly. "Get you a drink?" he asked

"Thanks, I'm good," Tristan replied, gesturing with his half full glass. He was willing to play nice as long as Logan did. "Nice shindig. Yours?"

"LDB actually," said Logan, turning to survey the party. "but I planned it. The theme was Finn's idea though!"

"You rang?" Finn finished at the bar and turned his attention back to the conversation.

"Excellent choice for a theme" Tristan complimented him. The range of costumes was fantastic, and of course, the sheer quantity of gold bikinis was not a bad thing.

"Why thank you! Lots of gold bikinis, which was my goal" grinned Finn. "Not enough redheads though," he continued sadly, "and I miss reporter girl. She really livened up these events." He looked at Logan reproachfully, or as reproachfully as possible in his state of drunkenness.

"I told you Finn, I'm going to get Ace back. This has all been a big misunderstanding."

"Ace?" asked Tristan, intrigued that Logan, of all people, was chasing after a girl.

"His ex-" confided Finn "he 'accidentally' dumped her by telling his sister that they broke up. She was a peach, that girl. Might have gone after her myself if Logan hadn't gotten to her first. Might go after her now if he keeps up like this!"

"Finn!" said Logan sharply, clearly not amused at the notion of his friend chasing after this 'Ace', whoever she was.

"I have to agree with him" commented a brunette Luke from Tattoine, sliding up to the bar. "She's an incredible girl, and if you don't get her back, someone else is going to snatch her up. I mean, the way she stole that yacht!"

"Poetry!" enthused Finn "Pure poetry! Not a hesitation, not a blink, just, 'let's steal a yacht'! And those genes! Her mother is a major hottie- THAT'S what you'll end up with in twenty years. Well, sixteen, whatever. Not a redhead, but hot enough to make up for it. Mmmm, Gilmore…"

Tristan snapped to attention. Had Finn just said Gilmore? Could Rory, his Rory, really have dated Logan? She had refused to even think of spending time with him, but she had dated _this_? This rich, arrogant, smug blonde alternate universe version of himself? Had she changed that much? And then he realized. If Rory had changed enough to be willing to date this, she had certainly changed enough to be willing to date him. He had to know. But the conversation had continued.

"I can't believe I thought you were right when you said early Luke would get the girls" muttered the brunette Luke. "No one will even talk to me. They start to giggle."

"Maybe that's because that linen is kind of transparent Colin" suggested Finn "or maybe they just think you're funny."

"It is not transparent!" screeched Colin, checking quickly to make sure nothing inappropriate was visible.

"I'm sorry to interrupt" Tristan broke in "but steal a yacht? What happened here?" Hoping that one of them would give a real name, he prodded gently. "I think I need to meet this Ace." Logan glared at him and refused to respond, while Fin was happily distracted.

"Ah, reporter girl! A marvel of a woman. She took young Logan and made a man out of him—at her very own suggestion, they stole a yacht during his sister's engagement party." He leaned confidentially on Tristan's shoulder. "They got caught, and while Logan here got off scott-free, Miss Gilmore got stuck with hours and hours of community service. Had to take a semester off to deal with it I believe. A princess among women that one! And –oh a redhead! I'm off!" he dashed away, closely followed by Colin, demanding to know what Finn had meant about transparency.

Tristan looked at Logan. "Rory? Gilmore?" he asked, half fearful, half hopeful.

"Yes." Logan looked at him sharply. "Do you know her?"

"We went to Chilton together for a while." Tristan kept his face calm, but his mind was racing. Mary. His Mary had dated this man? Had stolen a yacht? Had taken time _off of school_?

"Funny. She never mentioned you." Logan glared at this interloper, this man who knew Ace, who came from his world. He had never really thought of Marty as a threat, he knew he could beat him out in looks and charm and money. And he was fairly certain that Finn and Colin were only joking when they said they would go after Rory if he didn't get her back. But Tristan? Tristan could be dangerous. "Must not have made much of an impression."

"Oh, she remembers me all right. Ah, my Mary…" Tristan sighed, meaning to indicate their familiarity with the nickname, but forgetting who he was talking to, the shared knowledge they had. Logan smiled nastily.

"Not really a Mary anymore" he said chummily "but an excellent girlfriend!" Even to score off of Tristan he couldn't be actively insulting to Rory, but he sure as hell wanted Tristan to know that he had been with her in every sense of the word. Rory was his, and he was going to fight to the end to keep her.

Logan's words hit Tristan like a gunshot. She had said she wasn't a Mary anymore, but he had never considered that he might meet the man who had made it so. Had assumed it was the bag boy, and, while he hated the bag boy, he also knew that he was out of the picture. Logan—Logan was obviously very much in the picture. He controlled his reactions though.

"Oh? Well, she always showed me a lot of passion, and she was very young back then." He responded, knowing Logan couldn't ask Rory straight out, knowing it would drive him crazy wondering what their relationship had been. Knowing as he said it that it was a weak shot. But he smirked anyway, sure that it would still hit.

Logan's eyes narrowed. He didn't like this man, standing there so confidently asserting a prior claim on his Ace. He didn't like being challenged in his territory, where he was king. He didn't like knowing that it was his fault Ace wasn't speaking to him, that it would be his fault if he never got her back. But mostly he didn't like the fact that Tristan DuGrey had a right to be there, and there was nothing he could do about it

"Enjoy the party." He said, knowing that he had lost the battle, but more determined than ever to win the war. "I need to circulate, make sure everything is going well."

"I will. Thanks." Tristan replied calmly. He was pleased to have routed Logan, but he was aware that the challenge Logan presented was a not inconsiderable one. Logan walked away and Tristan watched him go, considering.

Rory had dated this man. Rory had stolen a yacht. Rory had gone to jail, and to court, and had done community service. Rory had taken time off of school. Rory had changed a lot. She was no longer the girl from Chilton who he had known was too good for him. She was possible. He just had to figure out how to get her to wait for the next fifteen weeks. His eyes narrowed.

Surely she would wait for the next fifteen weeks.


	9. Months

A/N: I own bupkis, it's all the property of those lucky, lucky Palladinos!

And thank you all so much for all of your kind reviews! I love getting them, so please, write more! (the more I get, the more inspired I am to keep writing in defiance of the need to do other work--or, indeed, to sleep!)

* * *

Months

As she straggled towards her Arabic section on Monday, Rory was very conscious of the fact that it had been months since she was in school. She hadn't expected it, but it was a lot harder to get back into the swing than normal. It had been—pleasant—to come home from work for the last several months and know that there was nothing she had to do until it was time for work again in the morning. Now she was finding it hard to accept that even on the weekends, there was still work that needed to be done for the following week, that there was no real time off. And of course the sound of Paris and Doyle fighting and—well, she preferred to think it was all fighting—was a little distracting. But she had persevered, and everything was done for this week. She had paid special attention to the Arabic homework—she knew it was shallow, but she wanted to impress Tristan, wanted him to think that she was gifted with languages. Of course, she also wanted a good grade, but Tristan was probably the stronger motivating force this time!

Talking with her mother on Friday had made her realize that there was nothing wrong in thinking of Tristan as a man, and an attractive man at that. If he had changed as much as he seemed to have, then he was not only attractive but eligible: while it was too soon after her break-up for anything serious, Rory had no intention of letting Tristan think of her as just another student—or as the girl who broke his heart. They had failed at friendship before, and she wasn't going to let that happen again. If Logan had taught her anything, it was the value of going after things she wanted. Logan might be history, but she intended to remember that lesson. She wasn't going to try to influence her grades with anything other than her brains, but she might try to influence Tristan to think of her as more than a painful part of his past.

She made it to class just in time, and didn't get the chance to speak with Tristan before he started the days exercises. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he moved from pair to pair, only giving her full attention to her partner when he moved closer. He really was gorgeous. How had she not noticed that at Chilton? He had a different energy now than she remembered him having—then he had been on edge, burning up from the inside like Knox Overstreet from _Dead_ _Poets_ _Society_. Even when he was flirting or teasing or charming, he had an edge of tension, as though it would only take one thing to make him explode. Now he seemed calm. Relaxed. His smile as he spoke to one of the other students was genuine, and his eyes were kind. He winked at her when it was her turn, corrected her partner, and moved on, otherwise acting no differently than he had with anyone else. This new Tristan was a mystery. He seemed so content with himself, but the other day he had been so raw. So damaged. How could he be both?

Rory shook her head and concentrated on the dialog. There would be time to worry about this _after_ class.

* * *

Tristan had left the party fairly early on Friday. He needed time to think about what he had learned, and he didn't want to deal with Logan any more than he had to. When he'd left the bar, Logan was surrounded by several pretty Han Solo groupies, and didn't seem to be fighting to escape them too hard. Maybe he didn't really mean to try and get Rory back—but Tristan still needed to figure out how to deal with him if he did. He ran into Finn on his way out.

"Leaving so early mate?" the tipsy Australian inquired. "Don't you want to meet some of the girls? There are lots of lovely girls here—none of the redheads though, _I_ like the redheads."

"That's ok Finn," laughed Tristan, "I'm not looking for a redhead, they're all yours. Good luck! I've got someone I'm working on, but she's not here tonight." He wasn't worried about it getting back to Logan, he had made his intentions fairly clear there. But Rory was in society circles now, and as Finn and Colin had indicated, if Logan didn't make a better effort to get her back than he was right now, she would be considered fair game in no time. He didn't want to have to deal with that, but more, he didn't want her to have to. He was fairly sure, even after her relationship with Logan, that Rory had no idea what it was like to be available in this group, the kinds of pressure these men could and would put on her, especially as a known ex- of ladies man Logan Huntzberger—and he didn't want her to find out. He continued, watching Finn's reaction carefully, "I think you know her. Rory. Gilmore."

"Rory! Rory _Gilmore_?" sputtered Finn. "But-reporter girl? She's—Logan's—Ace! She's not- well- not really- she's not available!" He had obviously been joking about going after her himself, or he wouldn't be so upset about the idea of Tristan chasing her. "You can't—how do you even know her!"

"She may have been Logan's 'Ace', but she was my 'Mary' first." said Tristan calmly. He had to present this the right way, but he knew he could manage it. If he could keep the marauding hordes of rich boys away from her, he might have a good shot at getting her to stick around until the end of the semester. And the best way to do _that_ was to convince them he had prior claim. "We were at Chilton together. She needed some time to grow up, figure things out, so I stepped back. But I'm here now."

Finn looked stunned. Logan was _not_ going to like this, not at all. DuGrey had a prior claim? Hell, DuGrey had a claim at all? While their fathers might have been punctilious over matters of precedence in dating, _they_ tended to feel that the girl had a right to her own opinion in the matter, so they only backed off if she showed a definite preference—or if the guy fell really hard, as Logan had done. But it sounded like Tristan was about to muddy Logan's waters. "Oh crap." Finn muttered softly.

"Yes." Tristan stated. He looked at Finn for a moment to make sure he understood, nodded, and then left. Logan was going to be much more difficult to deal with, but this was the only way to protect Rory. And, he had to admit, selfishly, to keep her single until he could ask her out. For that matter, Rory was probably going to kill him if he didn't explain things well. But he would worry about that later.

Tristan had a plan in place by the time class rolled around. He needed more information. Rory had obviously changed—changed in some ways he liked and some he probably wouldn't—but it meant he didn't understand her the way he wanted to. He needed to figure out who Rory was before he could do anything else. And he needed to warn her about his conversation with Logan…and with Finn…oh, she was going to be pissed…

He made it through class, concentrating hard on not looking at her, on paying attention to the other students. How to tell her that he had declared her off limits? That he had told Logan they had a prior relationship? Oh, this was going to be painful. Maybe he should give her a couple of days, let her see that he wasn't just pursuing her like he had before. If she realized he was making an effort to act totally normal with her, maybe she would be more likely to understand his reasoning? It seemed worth a try.

* * *

After class, Rory slowly gathered her things. Several of the girls in the section were asking Tristan questions, clearly hoping for a bit more of his attention than the purely academic. They flirted and blinked and shoulder-touched and did the hair twirl, but he appeared oblivious to their intentions. He didn't even smile overly much as he answered their questions and sent them on their way. She grabbed her bag as he left the room and caught up with him just outside.

"So, teach, no 'pie' today?" she asked laughingly. She figured with a casual opening like that he wouldn't think she was just another of the girls hitting on him.

He laughed. "Nope, the conversation was completely pastry-free. Which is kind of a shame, come to think of it!"

"Maybe I'll try to throw one in next time, liven things up." She glanced over at him as they walked, trying to think of an opening. "So, we got cut off last time."

"Yeah, we did. How did the meeting go?" He was friendly but not expansive, and she realized this was going to be a little more difficult than she had thought. She wasn't used to being the one who did the chasing or the asking, she was used to being pursued.

"Good. Well, not good, exactly, but I think there might not be open mutiny for the next little while. You know Paris though—you can never tell what she'll do next!"

He laughed. "God, yes, she's a firecracker, that girl! I'll never forget the time she beat me up."

"Paris beat you up? You? Tristan the King of Chilton? I'm shocked you admit that in public!"

"Well, we were only six. And I suppose she really only hit me once or twice." He sighed nostalgically. "She claimed I broke her butterfly jar. Never touched the thing, it gave me the creeps—all those dead bugs. But you'll keep this between us, right? Got to protect the rep!" He said laughingly, winking at her.

"Of course!" Rory teased. "Heaven forbid the big strong man get a rep as a butterfly lover!" She slowed as they neared the corner. "I have to head to another staff meeting, but—do you want to get together, talk, catch up? Without a time limit?" Rory cocked her head and looked up at him as he seemed to consider her invitation. She could feel herself starting to blush, and willed the heat to subside. This was just an old friend asking another old friend to get together, this was nothing more. Ok, it was something more, but she was damned if he was going to realize that until she figured out what she wanted!

"I—would like that." Tristan replied. He was startled that she had asked him. It wasn't a date, nothing so clear-cut as that, but she had invited him to spend time with her outside of class. This was definitely a good sign. "What did you have in mind?" He would let her take the reins, see where she was going with this. Anything would be good, but her suggestion would give him an idea of her intentions.

"Maybe… dinner? Tomorrow? I've got class until 6, but if you're free after that…" She had to resist the urge to dig her foot into the ground like a five-year-old, waiting to see what he would say. This shouldn't make her so nervous!

"Tomorrow?" Tristan stalled for time, waiting for his heart to settle down. She had asked him to dinner! That could almost be construed as a real date! Of course it couldn't be a real date, they were just old friends catching up, and she was probably pretty busy during the day, and anyway they weren't allowed to date, but. Still. Dinner was **_way_** better than coffee, or even lunch. Dinner was…ambiguous. "Yeah… I can manage that. You're free at 6?" she nodded. "I'm not on the meal plan, so why don't you come by my place and I'll make something? I promise not to give you food poisoning!" he teased, holding his breath. She considered for a moment, and then nodded again.

"Sure! Tomorrow shortly after 6 it is then. Email me your address and let me know what to bring. And I'm trusting you on this edible food thing—I would never have pegged you for a cook!"

"Tomorrow I will tell you all of my deep dark cooking secrets, I promise! Once, I even made an Iron Chef style liver ice cream. _Not_ my most successful meal ever!" he grinned, and they went their separate ways.


	10. Years

i own nothing, as i lost the auction on ebay to the Palladinos. well, i own alex, because he sprang fully formed from my little brain, but i own nothing else!

Years

Tristan's declaration had been the talk of the party after he left on Friday. Almost everyone who had been there was a member of the LDB or was eligible to become one, so they understood Tristan's full meaning. There was a long-standing tradition, dating back to when the LDB and its brother organizations at other institutions were just for men, of members laying claim to a woman they were interested in: basically of calling 'dibs'. No one else in the group could pursue her while that claim was present. And while members took a looser view of it now (mostly at the urging of the female members, who were definite on the point that they could make up their own damn minds, thank you very much), they still agreed that certain feelings had to be respected. Chasing after the person another member really cared for, male OR female, was bad. Very bad. Tristan had not only made it clear that Rory was his, by doing so he had effectively accused Logan of breaking that rule.

Alex had spent most of the evening, not dancing with his girl of the moment as he had been planning, but dealing with all of the people who were demanding to know exactly what Tristan had meant and what he intended to do. Tristan had been out of circulation for a while, but everyone knew who he was and who his father was, and they knew he could back his claim up with some serious financial might if he chose to. They didn't, of course, know what Alex knew about Tristan's relationship with his family, and he wasn't planning to tell them. But he was going to make sure that Tristan understood exactly what he had begun.

Tristan pushed the tray of rolls into the oven, closed it, and turned to look at his roommate. "What's your point?"

"I'm just saying, it's been how many years since you knew this girl? Years, Tris, not weeks, not months, but _years_! Do you really think this is a good idea?" Alex inquired from where he sat on the counter, out of the way. Tristan had been cooking for most of the afternoon, and Alex had been trying to reason with him for almost as long.

"Making her dinner? I think it's not a bad one- she'll be pretty unhappy if I offer her dinner and then fail to provide." Tristan smiled sardonically and leaned against the sink. "Besides, I'm pretty sure no one can object to my feeding the girl- old friends catching up over a meal, it's a perfectly innocent thing. Couldn't possibly effect her grade, especially since I'm cooking. Maybe I should be glad she's not grading me though…" he continued thoughtfully.

"You know perfectly well what I mean!" Alex said heatedly. "I know you know the rules, and I know you're just as entitled to use them as Logan is! But I don't think you realize what you're setting up here. He can make your life miserable!" he jumped off the counter and stood facing Tristan. "Logan has full access to his father's money. You don't! You have to work to buy coffee, how in hell are you going to be able to fight him? Ignoring the fact that he can whisk her off to Tahiti if he wants to, there's still the little fact that he can get you fired. He can make sure you don't get re-hired. He can make your life impossible- make you have to go back to your parents and beg them for money!"

Tristan straightened. "No. He can't. The only thing he can do is deprive me of coffee, fancy chocolate, trips to the movies. I can live without luxuries—I've done it before." He grimaced. "He can't even get me in trouble with my parents. My father will probably be a thrilled as hell when he hears I made a claim, a, might I emphasize, _legitimate_ claim on a girl with a name he approves of. He'll be bragging to his buddies about the excellent match, what a planner I am. So he sure as hell isn't going to come down hard on me." He laughed bitterly. "He'll probably offer me a little reward. A fancy car for the good boy."

Alex nodded slowly. He had never understood how parents could be like the DuGreys, but he had seen the type, first in his schoolmates, and now with Tristan. They had spoken to him only three times in his entire tenure at Yale: once when he moved in, to tell him that if he failed, they would wash their hands of him, so he had better do well; once when he took his first job, to tell him that he had better not let any of their friends see him working, or there would be hell to pay; and the final time to tell him they were going to be very busy with travel and work, so he had better make other plans for the holidays. All of them. The only family member who had ever seemed to care for Tristan was his grandfather Janlen, who had died after his first semester at Yale. Unfortunately, he had never thought to change his will, so while he had left most of his money to Tristan, it was held in trust until he turned 25—and executed by his father. Tristan hadn't seen a penny of that money, and wouldn't until the day of his twenty-fifth birthday. Tristan had been avoiding this conversation all weekend, but now that he had made his case, Alex had to admit he had a point. As long as his basic needs were met, there was little Logan could do to hurt him.

"All right. I suppose you're right. But Tahiti?" Alex backed down somewhat.

"If Rory were the kind of girl whose head would be turned by a trip to Tahiti, I wouldn't want her anyway." Tristan said calmly. "But she isn't. She's special. Besides, I did some checking up yesterday. Logan's father isn't going to back him in anything. Logan's father—an unredeemable fathead and a boor, might I add—thinks Rory isn't good enough for him, and has been trying to break them up."

"Oh. Wow. Really?" Alex was surprised to hear it. Stephanie was a pretty efficient gossip, which was one of the reasons he liked her, and she hadn't said anything about this! "Where did you hear this?"

"Always go directly to the source. But when the source is out of reach, go to their roommate. I asked Paris Gellar." Tristan replied.

"Paris Gellar!" Alex's voice and eyebrows both shot up. "You're braver than I thought!"


	11. Yesterday

A/N: Those lucky, lucky Palladinos own everything, boo hoo!

Yesterday

"_Who_ called you yesterday?" said Rory, only half listening to Paris. She had been melting down more and more often recently, not dealing well with the paper, and it was driving Rory crazy.

"Tristan." Paris replied. "Tristan DuGrey. Did you know he goes here?" Her voice began to rise, and she shook her head. "He goes here—and he never called me. Not once. Not a 'Hey Paris, how you doing? Let's talk over old times.' Not a 'We were best friends for our entire childhoods, so I thought I'd tell you I survived military school'. Nothing! That—that—ingrate!" The word seemed to set Paris off, and she began to stomp around the room, waving her arms and pretending to look for something.

"Ingrate seems a little strong, Paris."

"We were _best_ friends. I mean, ok, he broke my butterfly jar," Rory smiled, thinking of Tristan's version of the story, "and we never could seem to get it together once we hit middle school and his charisma kicked in, but there was a time when we spent every day together. And he couldn't even be bothered to call, text, IM! Where **_is_** that book! _Dammit!_"

"Paris? Did you ever contact him?" Rory prodded, remembering that Tristan had said Paris hadn't written.

"Well. No. It was his job, he's the one who got sent away! The one who abandoned us in mid-project! He owed me!" Paris ranted, moving around the room faster and faster. "Forget the stupid book! Who cares. Who cares about any of it."

"Paris!" Rory grabbed her shoulders, holding her still. "You care! And you have every right to. He was a big part of your life for years, and you deserve to know he's alive. But think about this from his perspective. He got yanked out of school and sent away to his own personal idea of hell, and he never heard from anyone. Not the girl he liked, not his former best friend, not anyone. Why would he write to you if you never wrote to him?"

"I—" Paris looked shocked. "I never thought of it like that. I guess—I thought he would know why I didn't write."

"Maybe," Rory said slowly, backing away from Paris, "he thought you didn't write because you didn't want to hear from him. Because you hated him. Because you didn't even care enough to hate him."

Paris nodded slowly, thinking. She smiled. "Yes. Maybe he did. Maybe I should have—wait. Why are you taking his side?" Paris began to get angry, her voice growing louder and louder. She advanced on Rory. "You hated Tristan. Or you said you did. Were you lying all along? How do you know that no one wrote to him! You've been secretly in touch with him, haven't you? That's why he wanted to know about you and Logan, the only reason he called is because you went sniffing around him and he needed to make sure you were available. You always wanted him, I _knew_ it!" Rory was shocked to hear that Tristan had asked about her and Logan, but she had more urgent things to deal with.

"Paris! Focus!" Rory grabbed her shoulders again, only narrowly controlling the urge to shake her by them. "You love Doyle. You are _happy_ with Doyle! You don't even know Tristan anymore, and you probably wouldn't like him much if you did." This might or might not be true, what with the whole 'new Tristan' thing, but she wasn't going to waffle. Paris seemed to be calming down a little, so Rory took the chance to hammer her point home. "I never dated Tristan in high school—but more importantly, high school is over! You and I have been friends for more than four years now, and in that time I have never betrayed you. You need to accept that."

Paris looked shocked. She tilted her head to the side, considering. This was a revelation to her. High school was over. She was at college. She might not be at Harvard as she had always planned, but Yale was a pretty amazing place, and she was here. She had a boyfriend who loved her, a best friend who had known her for years, and she was feared and respected across a large swath of the campus. Tristan had been such a big part of her life, both real and fantasy, for so long that it was almost painful to realize that she didn't actually need him. Didn't even want him. He was actually—irrelevant to her. "'Surplus to requirements', as they say." She muttered, barely realizing it was out loud.

"Yes. He is. Are you recovered? Do I need to get the Krav Maga Padding out?" Rory watched her warily.

"No." Paris replied weakly. "No!" she repeated louder. "I'm ok. I'm sorry. I just—he was—well. It's Tristan." She smiled apologetically.

"I know, Paris. I know." Rory nodded, because she did understand Paris' feelings about Tristan. She took a deep breath—better to get it over with quickly. "That's why I wasn't sure how to tell you this. Tristan's my TA. For Arabic. That's probably why he called, because he knew I would tell you he's here." She smiled hopefully at Paris, unsure of her reaction.

A quick intake of breath was Paris' only initial reaction, coupled with a controlled stillness. "Paris?" Rory asked after a few seconds. "Paris, are you ok? Are you going to kill me now? Should I start running? Because I have to tell you, I was just as shocked as you are when I realized it." Paris blinked.

"When did you realize it?" she asked coldly.

"Friday! The first day of class, obviously. I just walked in and sat down, and he was writing on the board, and then he turned around and poof! There he was! And he laughed at me for saying 'pie', and we talked a little but I was late for the staff meeting and then I went home for the weekend. I spent all weekend thinking of how to tell you. Obviously, that was unnecessary."

"'Pie'?" Paris questioned.

"Well. In the exercise. I was supposed to say I was happy or something, and I couldn't remember the word, and apparently I said I was a pie…" Rory trailed off. "Are we ok about this?"

There was a pause, and then Paris smiled. "I guess so." She shook her head. "In fact, yes! Tristan didn't call me and I feel good about it. I feel free. I feel ready to take on the world. Heck, I feel like I should set you two up, so you can be as happy as Doyle and I. I feel—"

"Whoa, Paris." Rory interjected. "You should set who where now? Tristan and I are just friends. No set-upping needed. In fact, set-ups should be the farthest thing from your mind. What a crazy idea, me and Tristan as a couple. He just wanted to say hi to you." Rory might or might not have some ideas along those lines herself, she hadn't made up her mind, but she certainly had no intention of letting Paris get involved. She would probably arrange for a long series of couples rock-climbing or martial arts lessons!

"Oh, Rory," Paris smiled condescendingly, "Tristan didn't call here after two and a half years to suddenly make up with me. He could barely pretend he was interested in how I'm doing for fifteen minutes before he asked about you. You're the only reason he contacted me. I can accept that. I have Doyle, I don't need Tristan anymore."

"Um, ok." Rory looked dubiously at Paris. "I'm glad you feel that way, but—wait, he asked about me? He asked about Logan? What specifically did you talk about?" Rory was a little disturbed. Why would Tristan call Paris to ask about her? He could just ask her himself. Unless he wanted to know something she wouldn't have told him, in which case… "Paris?"

"I…I don't know if I should tell you." Paris looked uncertain.

"Paris!" Rory said, exasperated. "He asked you about _me_! I think I deserve to know what he wanted to know! How bad could it be, anyway?"

"O—K." Paris said hesitantly. "Just don't get mad at me. He said hi, that he'd heard I was here, and how was I doing. So I told him. And then he said he'd heard I was living with you, and he asked how that happened. So I told him. And _then_, he asked how you were doing. So I—told him." She looked at Rory almost nervously.

"Not hearing a lot to be upset about here Paris, what _else_ did you 'tell him'?" Rory demanded.

"Well, I might have mentioned that … that you had been dating Logan. And that you'd stolen a yacht. And that you'd dropped out. And that Logan's family didn't think you were good enough, and that his father tried to break you up. And…" She looked apologetic. "I told him too much, didn't I? I just couldn't stop—him suddenly calling out of the blue, I wanted to tell him everything that happened while we weren't talking. I—I guess I'm sorry."

"Oh, Paris!" Rory groaned. "Oh man! Oh crap! Now what is he going to think?"

"Why do you care what he thinks?" Paris asked knowingly. "You're just friends, right?"

"Yeah! Yeah." Rory answered evasively. Now was probably not the time to tell Paris she was meeting Tristan for dinner. "But he's going to be grading me, and I don't want him thinking I'm a crazy person. Or a thief! And—he's going to think I dated Logan because the two of them were so similar! Oh, crap." She flopped onto the couch.

"Huh." Said Paris, obviously thinking. "I never noticed before, but—_did_ you date Logan because he's so similar to Tristan?"

"No!" Rory replied indignantly. "Of course not! I didn't even think about them being similar until…well, until Logan and I broke up, actually. You know how it is, when a relationship ends you think about all the qualities that mattered in all the men in your life who could have been important. Of course Tristan wasn't," She looked nervously at Paris before continuing, "but I did realize how similar they were."

Paris smiled at her. "Yes. They are. Maybe you should think about that. I have to meet Doyle." She grabbed her coat and walked toward the door as Rory stared at her, troubled.

"Paris—" she started.

"It's OK Rory. You're right. **_I_** let Tristan go out of my life, I can't be angry that he stayed out. And I can't be upset about his interests if I'm really happy with Doyle, which I am. But if I were you, I would wonder why he called to ask about me." She closed the door, leaving Rory confused and upset.

Paris had a point. Tristan had no reason to call, so why had he? They were meeting for dinner today, he could ask her anything he really needed to know. There was the possibility that once he realized she was going to see Paris, he decided to call her to say hi, but—that seemed a little unlikely, even for the new Tristan. He obviously felt a little bitter over her refusal to write, why would he try to protect her feelings at this point? He must have called about her. What could he want to know that much? She would have to find out tonight. Her expression grew firm. Tristan had better have a good explanation for this.


	12. Today

A/N: I own nothing, sadly. Everything belongs to those lucky, lucky Palladinos.

Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! I really appreciate them, and they definitely motivate me to keep up with the writing!

Today

Rory knocked firmly on Tristan's door. She needed to know why he'd called Paris, why he'd asked about Logan, but she would wait until dinner was over. If it was a rational reason, surely Tristan would bring it up? Explain himself? Of course, she couldn't think of any rational reasons, but it was certainly possible that there was one.

The door opened suddenly. Tristan smiled at her, one of those stunning brilliant smiles that lit up his whole face. One of those smiles she had never seen at Chilton.

"Hey!" he said happily, "You're right on time! Come on in." He moved aside to let her pass. Rory entered, taking her coat off and handing it to him. She moved into the apartment, looking around her. It was a nice place, but not extravagant. Cleaner than the typical male apartment, with rugs on the floor and framed prints on the walls, it had a welcoming feeling to it. And something smelled delicious. Tristan led her to the kitchen and offered her a drink, which she accepted.

"I like your place." she said, filling the quiet.

"Thanks." she smiled. "It was pretty nasty when we first moved in, but Alex said he was never going to get a girl to date him unless we decorated the place."

"Alex?" Rory inquired.

"Oh—my roommate. He's great. Society but not, well, the way I was. He's out now, but you'll get to meet him later." Tristan stirred something on the stove.

"So…It smells wonderful." Rory said, again feeling the need to fill the brief silence. She just wanted to poke him until he explained what was going on, but until then, she was afraid to speak freely, worried that an accusation would slip out.

"Thanks! I hope it tastes as good as it smells." Tristan finished stirring, tapped the spoon on the pot and set it aside. He took a deep breath and turned to Rory.

"Look, there's something I have to tell you." he said. He had known, when he spoke to Paris, that she would tell Rory what they had talked about. But it was important for him to know, and Paris was the only person who could tell him who wouldn't be on Logan's side. "I called Paris yesterday."

"I know." Rory replied. She started to say more but closed her mouth. She wanted to hear his story. She folded her arms, determined that if it weren't a good story she would leave.

"Yeah. I figured you would. But I had to—I had to find something out before I saw you." Tristan looked apologetic.

"Oh?" Rory asked, giving nothing away.

"On Friday I went out with Alex. We went to a LDB party. And I met Logan."

"Oh?" Rory repeated, really interested now.

"Yeah." Tristan looked down. "He was talking about how he was going to get back together with some girl, some 'Ace'. I didn't like him. I…REALLY didn't like him. He was so confident, so smug, so pompous, so…so _sure_ that she couldn't resist him. And then I found out that it was _you_ that he was calling 'Ace', and, I don't know, I went a little crazy."

Rory cocked a brow. "Oh?" she encouraged coolly, and slightly threateningly.

"I didn't fight him or anything!" Tristan reassured her. "I just…I kind of…I implied that we might have had a history." He looked hopefully at her, finding no softening in her face, and looked down again, bringing one hand around to play with the back of his neck awkwardly. "And then I might have told his friends that I had a claim on you. Um. To stop them from hitting on you unless you wanted them to. And then I had to make sure you didn't actually like the guy, because then I'd have to apologize, and I REALLY didn't want to, especially because his face was just priceless, but I would have. Um. So." He stood there, shamefaced, and waited. Waited for her to scream at him. Waited for her to stomp out of his apartment. Waited for her to tell him that she expected him to be fair in grading her, but that she didn't want to see him outside of class ever again. Instead, she—laughed?

Rory threw her head back and howled with laughter. This was perfect. This was utterly, completely, perfect. In one fell swoop, Tristan had insulted Logan, gotten the ever-more-attentive-in-that-slightly-more-than-friendly-way members of the LDB off her back, and apologized to her. It was genius. And wait until Lorelai heard! After a few minutes, she finally calmed enough to begin speaking. "You—told—him—You—I—oh—ow!" she collapsed with laughter again, this time picturing Logan's face. It was beautiful. Tristan straightened, and began to grin. As Rory continued laughing, he began to chuckle himself. "His face!" she howled, and he laughed along with her. Their laughter slowly calmed, and they stood in companionable silence for a moment.

"So." Tristan began. "I take it you're not mad at me?"

"No!" Rory stated emphatically. "I am definitely not mad. It was a little ill-advised, given that you didn't know how I felt, but it was kind of—sweet—too."

"I'm glad." Tristan grinned at her. "Whew! So, you hungry?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Good! So, we can eat, we can laugh, and we can talk about all of the things we have done in the past few years that do _not_ involve me humiliating myself in front of you!"

"Aw!" Rory pouted. "But I like it when you humiliate yourself. It's so—cute!"

Tristan narrowed his eyes in mock anger. "Humph! See if I let you have seconds!"

"Noooo!" Rory cried in false fear, and laughed up at him. Dinner was going to be fun. Today was turning out to be a very good day.


End file.
